


Toothpaste & Vinegar

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Flirty Jensen, Fluffy Ending, Holidays, I'm Going to Hell, Jared is Jared, M/M, Office Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Pining Misha, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A click sounds behind him. Misha backpedals out of his thoughts only to run straight into Jensen.</p><p>“How ‘bout we skip right to dessert?” he says, backing him into the cabinets. With one knee throttling his crotch and the other licking Misha’s thigh, it’s safe to say he rings in the holiday season with more than just a bah humbug. </p><p>You know what's gonna happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toothpaste & Vinegar

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to get a Cockles fic outta my system, these two are driving me cRAZY.

It’s not every day Misha gets socked in the crotch with the pointy end of a broomstick. Jared’s not _that_ merciless.

But Jensen is.

Jensen is the enchilada that’s been sitting in the back of the office fridge for God knows how long with a cautionary note that says _Don’t touch!_ , preying on trusting employees and heads alike until someone finally caves and eats him whole.

Misha hasn’t caved—not yet. But God knows he wants to. Jensen Ackles isn’t anything short of easy on the eyes with that big gummy smile stretching acres of budding wheat across swollen jawline and lips. It’s enough to pucker his _Green Giant_ eyes and sun-kissed freckles doing the horizontal tango across his nose and cheekbones. Not only is he tall and handsome, he’s funny, smart, and _way_ too adventurous to be straight.

Like hell if he wasn’t curious about _him,_ but Misha’s just the busboy at Alan Ackles Enterprises. Jensen is heir to his father’s multi-billion dollar estate. They’re about as compatible as toothpaste and vinegar, yet they’re drawn to each other like magnets. Misha wouldn’t give second thought to it if Jensen didn’t keep showing up in his cubicle uninvited.

At least that’s what Jensen _pretends._ Jensen was slick, Misha would give him that.

“Oh, hey, Mish…” Said man leans against the open doorway with a smirk that goes straight to Misha’s—

 _Whack._ Enter Jared, literal cock blocker.

“Hello Jensen. _Jared._ ” He shoots a pointed look at the moose of a man hogging his workspace. Jared just sneers at him through mountains of facial hair before moving along.

The thing about Jared is he’s just as handsome as his best friend—not to mention curves in all the right places—but he has to actually _try_ to get Misha to fold. (Misha’s pretty sure the two of them have a list of pranks they’ve let to test out on him.) With Jensen, one smoldering look and Misha’s done for. “What’s up?”

Jensen’s tongue darts to his lower lip. “The real question is what’s down.”

“What?”

“What’re you doing in a few minutes?”

Misha squints. It’s not like Jensen hasn’t put the moves on him before, but he’s never asked him out on a date. Could it be he actually likes him? “Getting lunch,” he replies almost tentatively.

Jensen practically jumps. “Oh cool, where at?”

“…The break room…”

Jensen chuckles, “Alright, Blue Eyes, lead the way.”

And so he does. Misha leads Jensen through a maze of cubicles with inherited sunburn until they reach their designated room, adorned with what has to be the flashiest Christmas wreath Misha’s ever seen. Misha’s not bah humbugabout the holiday season, he’d just rather have more holidays involved. It’s only November. (Hence Jensen’s beautiful ginger face scarf…)

A _click_ sounds behind him. Misha backpedals out of his thoughts only to run straight into Jensen.

“How ‘bout we skip right to dessert?” he says, backing him into the cabinets. With one knee throttling his crotch and the other licking Misha’s thigh, it’s safe to say he rings in the holiday season with more than just a _bah humbug_. Jensen grins experimentally. “I know you want this, too. All you’ve gotta do is say the word.”

The drone of the fridge presses on in the background until Misha, whose vocal chords are a little tied up at the moment, nods and swallows what he’s positive is a lump of coal. Then Jensen’s mouth is on his so fast he fogs up Misha’s glasses. Misha goes to throw them off, but a hand on his wrist stops him cold. “No,” he growls, hands tangling in Misha’s hopelessly messy hair, “I want you t’see every naughty thing I do to you.”

Misha uses his momentum to grab Jensen by his tie and push him against the counter. Jensen doesn’t seem to protest, if the shit-eating grin on his face is anything to go by. Misha initiates the kiss this time, and it’s just as desperate, just as clingy. He can feel Jensen’s smirk on his mouth, so he swallows it with his tongue, showing him the same mercy he and Jared give him on a daily basis. His tastebuds explode with spearmint and wood and just plain Jensen to the point where he doesn’t care their noses are playing footsy.

Jensen’s hand cradles his thrashing cheek; the other slipping beneath the place the Good Lord split him. Nothing stops Misha from untucking Jensen’s shirt and exploring his back, smooth and warm beneath his undeserving, calloused hands. He lets out a strangled gasp as his knee hits the island when Jensen’s fleece-lined mouth attacks his neck, breath coming out hot against his skin, and involuntarily ruts against Misha. For all he cares, Jensen could dry-fuck him right here, but Jensen has other ideas.

Pulling down Misha’s pants and underwear as he goes, he drops to his knees and doesn’t give Misha’s hardness a chance to spring free. Misha nearly stumbles into the table behind them if it weren’t for him latching onto something bushy and damp. Glancing down, he sees Jensen’s thick caramelized hair bobbing back and forth and yeah, it’s really happening: Jensen lapping him like he's a cherry red lollipop.

Misha knows a skilled tongue when he feels one: Jensen’s done this before.

Jensen palms his own hardness, allowing them to come in tandem. It’s perfect timing, too, because there’s an angry set of knocks at the door. (With any luck, it’ll probably be Jared just to spite them.)

Jensen gets up; laughing against Misha’s unevenly bruised neck. Misha pulls him into a kiss that fits easier than two jigsaw pieces. Jensen, once again, not only smiles into it, but chases after him when he pulls away. Misha decides he likes the taste of himself on Jensen’s lips too much to make this a one-time thing.

The next morning, when Misha opens the fridge in the break room, he smiles. There’s a single piece of bleeding raspberry cheesecake near the front with a handwritten letter attached:

_My heart bleeds for you. Will you be my Christmas Spirit?_

 

 

 


End file.
